Alfonsine turned pale and trembled with passion as she read the letter. Her voice failed her. Her mother's face was distorted with anger.
"You evidently thought," said the baroness, biting her words off one by one, "that every man was an Otto Palvicz! Your stupid game is lost, and now we will try my plan."
CHAPTER VII.
THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP.
As Richard made his way homeward, he seemed to himself to be riding on a winged steed. He was entirely satisfied with the issue of that day's adventure. Reviewing in imagination the temptation to which he had been exposed, he exulted in the victory he had won over himself. Consequently, when he reëntered his bachelor quarters, he could not but feel an unwelcome sensation as his eye fell on certain objects that he would gladly have banished from sight. They were sundry souvenirs of certain love affairs, and no longer possessed the value in his eyes that they had once had.
Summoning Paul, he bade him make a fire.
"But the wood is so confoundedly wet that it won't burn," returned the old hussar.
At this Richard rummaged in the drawer of his writing-desk and produced a bundle of letters, whose delicate tint and perfume betrayed their probable nature. "There," said he, "take these; they will start the fire."
This order gave old Paul much pleasure, and soon the billets-doux were blazing merrily on the hearth.
"Paul," began Richard after a pause, "to-morrow we break up and go away for the annual manœuvres."